


Cold Feet

by thelordvoldemort



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode AU: s02e13 Doomsday, Reality TV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:59:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3604221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelordvoldemort/pseuds/thelordvoldemort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people get cold feet when they're engaged. On Maltocattoi's hit television show, <em>Cold Feet</em>, you get married or you get your feet chopped off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, I accidentally started another fic.
> 
> Inspired by:  
> 1.) http://tinyconfusion.tumblr.com/post/114371223900  
> 2.) http://tinyconfusion.tumblr.com/post/114372604350/who-even-thinks-these-will-be-pictures-for-a  
> 3.) http://tinyconfusion.tumblr.com/post/114374172485/im-not-saying-that-im-considering-writing-wonder  
> (Sorry, I'm still sort of a newbie and don't know how to link anything.)  
> So... Consider this dedicated to tinyconfusion and allegoricalrose on tumblr?
> 
> More tags and ratings to be added later.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or its characters. All mistakes are my own.

_If only she meant it,_ he thinks.

“You know, when people- and I say people, meaning not just your lot, but loads of other planets and species, of course- say, ‘Till death do us part,’ you, or you know, _they_ never really fully comprehend the whole ‘death’ part. I mean, yeah, sure, many couples want to be together for... Oh...” the Doctor sighs and eyes Rose briefly through a side glance.

“I don’t know,” he tugs on his wonky left ear while his face pinches up, and continues in an octave or two higher than normal, “Forever? Maybe? If they want?”

“Yeah, ‘cept in our case it’s ‘In death you will part, unless you marry.’”

That cute little line between Rose’s furrowed brows becoming way too intense of an affixation, the Doctor hums to clear his throat and forces himself to look away. Pretending to transfix his gaze amongst the throng of staff rushing about backstage, the Doctor gives a dignified sniff as he shoves his hands in his pockets. It isn’t like this is his fault. The TARDIS hasn’t been feeling well since a few spare parts picked up at a bazaar on Lakoyp just last week turned out to be very convincing rubbish. That wasn’t the Doctor’s fault, either. He tells Rose just that.

“Besides, it’s not death. We either get married, or we get cold feet. Literally. They freeze us- well, give us frost bite really- starting with the feet, which of course, must be cut off. Well, at least, that’s the most likely outcome for me. For you, you’ll most likely lose both of your legs. Not the entire things, just most of the way up. Hopefully. Probably. You’d be fine. Not really. And honestly anyways, we could have ended up in worse shows- we HAVE ended up in worse shows!”

Silence descends on the pair, each mentally reliving their own personal hell they had faced down on that dreaded day just over a year ago. Bloody Game Station. They each shiver in turn.

But he is right, of course; this reality show is far better than any they had faced down on Satellite 5. At least the planet Maltocattoi, named after their goddess of love, does not favor death. Well, obviously. For goodness sake, it’s a planet dedicated to _love_!

“Lucky us.”

Either missing or ignoring Rose’s sarcasm, the Doctor smiles brightly at his compan- wife-to-be. That’s right; the TARDIS must have thought herself a flipping comedian to have had landed them on this ridiculous romance planet. In fact, Rose reckons she could bet good money that the more-vibrant-than-usual niggling at the back of her mind that she associates as the TARDIS is actually the time ship laughing. Because what’s funnier than making the Doctor go visit her mum with her? Apparently, marrying her! And it just has to be a right laugh to him, this whole thing, if his eager willingness and over enthused attitude towards _Cold Feet_ for the past half hour or so are anything to go by.

On Maltocattoi, the planet of love (or so Rose has been trying not to remind every bloody five to ten minutes since she had been indirectly told so), the Maltocattoiians (“Ee-ee-ans?” “Yes, Rose, ee-ee-ans; don’t be rude.” “But it just doesn’t seem right.” “Neither does the word ‘weird,’ but never once have you heard me complain about that being a ‘wrong’ Earth custom, now have you?” “What ‘bout just now?” “The cheek on you, Rose Tyler. I am appalled.” “Shu’ up,”) center their entire lives on love, passion, and romance. 

One of their most famous customs, like Earth, involve television shows about marriage and weddings. In the current year of 68,945, the highest grossing show is _Cold Feet_ where every month, randomly picked visiting offworlder couples are chosen to have their wedding filmed for the entertainment of the public at large and generously payed for by the planet. If, however, the chosen couple are to refuse the offer or are unable to go through with the wedding planning, they are forced to get cold feet, as in, they will literally have their feet frozen to the point of frostbite being so severe that body parts require amputation and possibly hypothermia for the rest of the body, depending on the species and their endurance. As one can easily predict; most couples go through with the marriages. Most offworlders only visit the planet for their wedding or honeymoon, anyways.

“Ladies, gentlemen, other and none identified genders and beings...” 

Rose and the Doctor peered around the curtain offstage, watching and waiting for their cue from Delion, the host of _Cold Feet_ , to join him onstage.

“I would like to present the couple of this month... Forteniawsna... The month of devotion...”

Feeling a familiarly cool hand slip into her own, Rose turns her head to look up at the Doctor, who meets her gaze head on with a small smile. He squeezes her hand before she shifts her palm along his, and interlocks their fingers. The twitching at the corners of his lips and the gleam in the Doctor’s eyes make Rose’s belly fill with butterflies. She can feel every individual wing flap of every metaphorical insect against every inch of the inner lining of her stomach.

Or maybe she is going to throw up.

“Without further ado… For the time being… Doctor John Smith and Rose Tyler.”

Despite her nerves, Rose can’t help but laugh when the Doctor wraps an arm around her waist and bounces them towards center stage, waving and showing off a brilliantly toothy grin the whole way there.

 _If only he meant it,_ she thinks.


	2. Plans?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor has plans. The TARDIS has other plans.

_Today is going to be the day,_ the Doctor thinks to himself and smiles at the hum of encouragement from the TARDIS that fills the corridors as well as his mind. They have been playing this game for long enough, and truthfully it is time that the game ends. He has told himself for so long that _this_ would be the day or that _that_ would be the day, but today… Today is going to be the day that the Doctor tries to express to Rose Tyler that he means more than just companionship.

He knows, of course, that they were already past the “just friends” stage, though they still call each other that- mostly on other planets that could cause a whole load of damage if any enemies that inhabit the planets truly know how much they care for one another. However, they are not on any established relationship terms. They don’t really say it, but they both know that they aren’t friends. They just keep saying it. But today that changes.

For a while now, the Doctor has wanted to develop their relationship- or whatever it is that they have. In fact, he has tried! Multiple times, might he dare add! But of course, the universe has never been that kind to him, and so, his plans were always foiled. Whether it be by an accidental run in with trouble (or thirty-six accidental run ins that the Doctor was starting to think may not have been so accidental, if the way too innocent humming from the TARDIS was anything to go by, as he thought back on it), or by the TARDIS malfunctioning and bringing them anywhere but where he wanted, or even- you know, now that he’s thinking about it, the TARDIS has interfered _a lot._

“Now why is that, old girl?” he questions his ship accusingly.

She answers with a pitch that the Doctor usually recognizes as a nonchalant brushed off shrug. Of course.

Anyways.

Where was he?

Oh, yes.

So, there would be interruptions of trouble whenever the Doctor tried to move things along, but sometimes he would hold back because he was afraid of how Rose would react. Not that she would reject him because she didn’t want him, but because of the circumstances at the time. Like after Krop Tor. 

The Doctor had had very special moving-ahead-in-their-relationship-plans all planned out. And then Krop Tor happened and the beast in the pit said that Rose would die in battle, and soon. How could he just jump right in and pull a move after that? The only thing that he could have been more afraid of than losing Rose, was having Rose think that he was only feeding into the fear of what the beast said.

Instead, he just stuck extra close and cuddly to her, which admittedly wasn’t too bad as a substitute.

The next time that the Doctor had convinced himself to attempt any sort of romance, Canary Wharf happened and the beast’s prophecy almost came true. The Doctor had almost lost Rose Tyler. Rose Tyler had almost lost the Doctor. But that did not happen because- as the Doctor still needs to remind himself, sometimes- Rose Tyler is still here, with the Doctor, in the TARDIS, just as it should be.

But the Doctor had decided that after visiting Jackie, he would act on his plans. Because he did have plans; plans that required a lot of alone time together, without Rose getting nostalgic for her mother too soon. So, a nice little trip to the Powell Estate, and then leaving and finally acting on his plans to woe Rose Tyler, and that should have given them at the very least, a few weeks (relatively speaking, of course) until Rose would have some excuse to go visit her mother, or Jackie would have some excuse to drag them back to Earth.

And then the Daleks and Cybermen, and the reappearance of Mickey and parallel Pete, and the Doctor had sent Rose and Jackie away until- smart girls- they had come back. Well. Rose came back, and Jackie refused to be in a universe without her daughter. The rest of the day… Well, they don’t really like to talk about or reflect on that day, so..

Ahem. Back to the point.

So, yes, the Doctor had plans. But he had gone against Rose’s wishes, once more sending her away without so much as giving her a choice. Rightfully so, she was upset with and mad at him. And disappointed. So, of course, they had to recover from that.

A little while later, he had reconsidered his plan making. However, he thought that Rose would have thought that he was only acting on his feelings because he had wasted so much time- and how pathetic is that? A Time Lord wasting time- waiting for the other shoe to drop and then when it didn’t, he just threw caution to the wind. Although, it wouldn’t have been like that, as he had been waiting, though not for any metaphorical shoe dropping. He was waiting on time- again, a Time Lord waiting on time? It just doesn’t seem right, but for her- and her. He was waiting on her. He couldn’t just push her.

But now it has been weeks since what in his head, the Doctor has been referring to as ‘Doomsday.’ And once more, he has plans.

Because it wasn’t just that he was afraid that he might lose her, or that he was just _that_ relieved, or that he had an epiphany realizing just how short her life and their time is. It happened just the morning before, when he was looking back on it all, the good and the bad, and then he had looked at Rose eating a piece of toast and then watched the bit of butter smudged on the corner of her mouth for twenty-three seconds before she darted her tongue out to collect it that he realized it. Despite it all; he has seen the beginning and end of all he had even thought was important in all of time and space, but then he would look at this wonderful human woman; his precious pink and yellow girl- and she had told him once that all the times he calls her brilliant, that he should be thanking himself for it because she didn’t start seeing any of that brilliance, didn’t see a reason to have anyone else see it either, until she met him. And maybe in a way, he saw the beginning of her and he would be a fool if he didn’t do everything in his great deal of power to be there with her until the very end.

And today is going to be the day that he lets her know that.

 

++

 

It isn’t surprising when the Doctor takes Rose ‘somewhere special’ as a ‘surprise.’ It is, however, strange when the Doctor is nervous in preparation for this trip. Although, usually, or okay, just about always when he tries to take her for some unannounced occasion, it never goes the way Rose imagines the Doctor had imagined it going. But every time, without fail, all of his ‘special' 'just them’ trips have not gone according to plan- whatever plan that may be that the Doctor never tells her about in full detail, only ever relaying brief details (or in most cases, great deals of details about anything and everything _but_ his plans. Bloody daft alien.)

Maybe he just _really_ wants to get this trip right, for once. If so, Rose figures it must be something really important. Or they could be out of bananas, but that wouldn’t explain why the Doctor’s nervous. And he definitely is nervous, Rose can tell; not just from the rubbing at his neck, the pulling at his ear, and the rushing of his words, but from his eyes darting to and fro in close vicinity of her, but rarely ever at her. And whenever he does actually look at her, it’s always because he wants to meet her eye for whatever (she thinks, reassuring) reason and she must definitely be imagining that softness enriching his features the moment their gazes align. 

But that’s probably nothing and this trip will probably backfire somehow, like it always does. And if she’s to be blatantly honest, it ultimately sucks because usually when the Doctor tries to take her on these trips, more times than not, the trips seem to have the intentions of leading somewhere out of the ‘companion’ boundaries and- well, at this rate, she’ll probably never know what the hell lies outside those boundaries, or if they even exist, at all.

Her train of thought it cut off when the TARDIS comes to a stop and the Doctor, with his daftly proud smirk, makes his way to stand directly in front of her position on the jump seat.

She bites her lip, debating between flat out asking about their destination or letting the Doctor stew until his own anticipation becomes too much for him to hold it all in. One look at the shine in his eyes, and she caves like _that._

“Alright, c’mon then. Where are we?”

“Rose Tyler,” she wonders if there will ever come a day that she doesn’t melt at the way that he rolls her name off his tongue. She hopes not. 

“Outside those doors,” he points but keeps his eyes trained on hers. “Is the stunningly beautiful planet, Maltocattoi. The year is 69,845, the weather is fairly warm, but with a bit of a breeze, so, you might want to get a coat- actually, no what you have on should do just fine- and the month is Clrizw, also known as the month of togetherness, well, not really togetherness, but that’s the closest that the TARDIS can come to translating. Anyways, I have plans for the two of us today; very special, important, momentous plans.” Rose almost has enough time between the Doctor’s momentary pause mid-rant to think, ‘Ah-ha!’ but, of course, gets cut off by the Doctor speaking up, once more.

“Oh, and there’s a parade, as well as a world wide celebratory festival for the month. Well, they have a celebration and festival every month, but this month has a parade, so..”

He finally trails off from his ramble with a bounce of the balls of his feet and a smile that Rose can’t help but answer to, in kind, with the smallest flash of tongue added in. 

Before she has the chance to truly consider what the Doctor has told her, he pulls her to her feet by the tug of her hand and runs them out the TARDIS doors.

The small wave of excitement in the back of her mind from the TARDIS tells her that today may just be different from all the other special-trips-turned-near-death-experiences. 

Later she will reflect on this moment and only spare a single laugh at the irony.

 

++

 

They aren’t even out of the TARDIS for more than two minutes before some pearly-toothed grinning man with a camera crew comes up to them and asks their names.

Camera crew means possibly a live audience ranging from town spread to planet wide or larger. Best to use an alias. Just in case.

“I’m Doctor John Smith and this is Rose Tyler.”

“Congratulations, Doctor John Smith and Rose Tyler! You’re the lucky winners!” the man punctures his exclamations with a shot of colorful confetti in their faces.

“Of what?” the Doctor asks, spitting a piecing of confetti out of his mouth.

“Of _Cold Feet,_ ” the man states as if it should be obvious.

“Sorry?”

“ _Cold Feet,_ the highest grossing television series, this side of the galaxy.”

The Doctor figures that if it weren’t for the cameras, this man would be sighing exasperatedly rather than widening his smile. He also gives himself a mental pat on the back for the alias thing. This side of the galaxy would be… Well. Let’s just say that the planet, itself, is bigger than eighty-six galaxies on the other side of the galaxy.

“About what?”

“’About what?’ he asks,” and the man’s laughter becomes contagious amongst his crew. “About marriage, of course! You are our latest contestants!”

“Sorry, what?”

“That’s right, now come along!”

“No, but really we’re.. we.. we’ were just..” the Doctor fumbles. This was nowhere near close to his plans.

“Sorry, I must’ve heard you wrong, eh..?” Rose starts, gesturing for the man to give his name.

“Delion, my dear.”

“Right. Yeah. Delion. Nice name-“

“Thank you.”

“Right.. Well. Could you tell me, ‘cause I definitely didn’t hear right; who’s getting married?”

“You are,” Delion points out, kindly, if not a little tiredly.

“But we aren’t even engaged!”

“That’s it- that’s right- that’s the right word!” the Doctor exclaims, finding his voice once more. “Or I suppose words. But yes, no, we are not presently engaged, ta.”

For the first time since he had made his presence known, Delion’s smile falls into a contemplative (or maybe disappointed) pout. 

“Yes, indeed. The lack of a symbolic representation of neither a previous engagement nor a past or current marriage shows just that,” he shakes his head and tsks in an over exaggerated fashion that reminds the Doctor of Jackie. He forces the thought aside.

“Yes and we weren’t really planning to- well, we came here for- well, we’re off worlders, so..” he trails off, hoping his statement could be of some meaning to Delion.

“Oh, that is quite obvious, yes. And most off worlders, especially this time of year, come here, to our grand and glorious planet of love, for their perfect wedding!”

“Planet of lo-“ Rose covers her mouth with one hand, then drags it down to her throat, as if she’s choking on the remainder of the word. As the Doctor thinks about it, he wonders if she possibly is.

“That’s-“

“In fact,” Delion cuts the Doctor off before he has a chance to try to ramble on. “There are no other open dates, as every day is booked this month except the last, which will be yours.”

“Oh, well, when you put it that way; you should definitely pick someone who came here with intentions of marriage,” the Doctor tries to suggest and Rose nods minutely in agreement.

“But they are all already here for their own planned weddings and yours is not.”

“Not what?”

“Planned.”

Blimey, that man can smile, can’t he? Bloody annoying. Who the hell could be bothered to go around smiling so much like that?

“Because there isn’t one to plan!” face crimson and a vain threatening to burst from her neck, Rose nearly yells.

“If you are choosing to refuse..” Delion takes a few steps back and a man and woman yielding guns as big as the one the Doctor was prepared to use on a Dalek in his last regeneration, fill his spot.

The Doctor steps forwards and raising his hands, putting himself purposefully in front of Rose.

“Nope, no! No need to kill us! No guns, please, we can just leave-“

“That’s not how this game works,” Delion interrupts and moves back to his original standing point, motioning for the gunmen to step aside and lower their weapons.

Of bloody course there would be a game.

Feeling small hands tugging at the back of his jacket, the Doctor releases a breath of relief and moves back to Rose’s side. He puts an arm around her waist and pulls her to him and slightly behind, just in case. Thankfully, she lets him and even wraps one of her own arms around him.

“What game?”

“The game of _Cold Feet_ where you marry or get cold feet, and this is no gun, sir,” the way Delion says it, it sounds like a signature line. 

And then it hits him: the lack of a parade, the actual time and date, and the TARDIS giggling happily in his head.

“Sixty-eight... Rose, what say you, we get married,” it comes out more as a rushed command than a question.

“’Scuse me?”

With a stressed grin, he chokes out in what sounds like a nervous laugh, “Just trust me on this. Please.”

It takes her a moment, but he knows that she would trust him, no matter what. However, he does know that there will be a great deal of questions later.

“Fine, yep, yeah, sure! Let’s get married,” her enthusiasm is so thickly strained that the Doctor imagines it must be painful to her throat.

“Wonderful!” 

Delion claps in delight. 

“Now, here are your trackers.”

They don’t see the two gunmen from earlier or the small metal tubes until they’ve already stepped away. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

The Doctor and Rose examine the tiny lumps on their left ring fingers.

“Your trackers. Can’t have you trying to give up on us, now can we? I mean, we can, but any means to opt out of your wedding will result in immediate cold feet. Now, if you would be so kind as to follow me, Doctor Smith and Miss Tyler.”

It suddenly occurs to the Doctor, that he could have used the psychic paper and a “Mr. and Mrs. so-and-so” alias for both himself and Rose. Oh, well. Rose can slap him for it later, and knowing her, she most likely will.

So much for his plans.

“Follow you where?” Rose’s question brings him out of his musing.

“Why, to the city center, of course,” it doesn’t seem like Delion is talking in a tone that one would use with a small child, but the ever-too-kind smile on his face tells a different story.

“That wouldn’t happen to be the city center where they start the parade for the celebratory festival for the month of Clrizw, would it?”

Delion’s eyes light up ecstatically as he reassures them, “Oh, yes! And no worries, there will be a parade for the two of you.”

“What, now? Why?” 

Much to the Doctor’s disappointment, Rose’s enthusiasm for a parade lacks tremendously in comparison to his earlier announcement of it. Bit of a shame, that.

“So we can announce you as our winners.”

“Oh, so I take it that those cameras aren’t filming live, then?”

“No, they are.”

“Then- then why do we need to? Shouldn’t everyone already know that you’ve picked us, if they’re watching the live streaming footage now?”

 _That must really hurt,_ the Doctor thinks as Delion’s smile grows, but doesn’t strain.

“But we all want to see you! You wouldn’t deny the happiness of the people at being able to embrace your happiness over your new engagement, now would you?

 

++

 

 _Only us,_ Rose muses. _This would only happen to us._

On the way to the stage placed exactly in the city of Eah’s center, the Doctor explains to Rose, while keeping her tucked closely into his side, that the TARDIS may have gotten the flight wrong and now they may have to get married unless she want to get her feet cut off; which she most definitely does not.

(And she’s not even going to start on the whole ‘planet of _love’_ thing.)

“Can’t we just, I don’t know, make our way back to the TARDIS or something?”

“Then what? If I’m correct- and I usually am- if we make to leave the planet’s atmosphere or try in any way to remove our tracking chips, they activate and freeze our ring fingers. Can’t get married then, can we?”

“’Course we could. We’d just put the rings on- what the hell am I saying?” Rose mentally slaps herself.

Practically yanking at his ear, the Doctor responds, “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m saying that unless you value not just your hands and feet, but also my own, we have to get married.”

“And there’s no way around it?”

“I’ve run all the possibilities and numbers through my head forty-two point thirty-nine times already, and all signs point to no and don’t let me sound like a magic eight ball ever again, Rose Tyler. But anyways, no, there is absolutely no way around it.”

Breathing slowly, Rose takes this into consideration. On the one hand, her mum would kill her and the Doctor if they came for a visit with a few missing limbs. On the other hand, her mum would kill them, revive them, give them a slap for each cheek, and then kill them again if they came for a visit with matching wedding bands. Either way, Jackie Tyler will not be pleased in the slightest.

She goes to tell the Doctor just that, but what comes out instead is, “Doesn’t even make any sense. You’d think they’d put the chips in our feet to keep up with the whole big run-on pun of it all or something.” 

Expecting some lighthearted humor in reply, it comes as a surprise when the Doctor tells her, “I’m sorry.” 

The Doctor’s quiet apology sounds so sincere that it brings Rose up short for a moment. She falters in her step, but the Doctor helps keep her in check without missing a beat and she can’t help but meet his eye when he tries to catch hers. Jaw set, crows feet pulling slightly at the skin around his eyes, and his eyebrows tugging together and downwards causing his eyelids to half cover his partially widened eyes; the only word Rose thinks of to describe the look on the Doctor’s face is remorse. He genuinely feels bad about all of this and knowing him, Rose wouldn’t be shocked to hear that he might be blaming himself.

She clears her throat and looks away, stalling for a second or two to think of something reassuring to say.

“You, uh. You said you had plans?”

 _Yeah, Rose, that’s real comforting; reminding him of yet another set of failed plans,_ she mentally kicks herself.

She isn’t sure exactly how long it takes for the Doctor to respond, but by the time he does, they’ve made it to the city’s center and placed behind the scenes of the huge stage inhabiting the center.

“I guess I’ll just have to make new plans,” he mutters and Rose wonders if maybe she wasn't meant to hear him; that he hadn't meant to speak out loud, but rather in his own head, to himself.

Not waiting for a response, the Doctor follows up his declaration by running his gob about marriage and the whole, ‘Til death do us part,’ thing. 

“I mean, yeah, sure, many couples want to be together for… Oh… I don’t know…”

Rose notices the Doctor attempting to give her a small, nonchalant look, and turns her focus to him, letting him know that she’s listening to him. When his face scrunches, hand claws at his ear, and voice gets all squeaky like it does when he’s having trouble admitting, flat out, exactly what it is that he wants to convey; Rose reconsiders her decision. But then she lets herself process what the Doctor says.

“Forever? Maybe? If they want?”

She’s not that thick; she knows that he’s referencing their last planned trip that came close to being successful. But to actually put a title to them as a couple?

_”How long are you going to stay with me?”_

_”Forever.”_

They haven’t talked about that day (or any of the successful moments in the mostly failed days) since it happened, but Rose has wanted to- still wants to. But with an actual audience (and a national one, at that), she knows that now isn’t the right time. It hasn’t been the right time since she said it.

Still, she wants to convey in some way that she means it, even now, and tells him, “Yeah,” but carries on with a light case of humor, not wanting to create too soft of a moment before they have to run out on stage, “’Cept in our case it’s, ‘In death you will part, unless you marry.”

It isn’t necessarily true, but it gets the Doctor rambling a bit more, which is all Rose wants, so she doesn’t have to talk, herself. She knows that if she were to let herself go on about her thoughts on this whole situation, she would fall ill with a case of word vomit, and she is far from being in the mood to clean that up. Instead, she sticks to her thoughts, only half listening to the Doctor.

They have been travelling together for over two years now, and they have pretended to and kept up the illusion of being in some sort of relationship more than platonic- whether because of planetary legal reasons, a miscommunication of the psychic paper, or having far more important things to worry about than correcting anyone’s assumptions- a total of sixty-nine times. She knows this because she and the Doctor have made it into a whole big thing; keeping a list and making jokes. Maybe that’s what the Doctor will try to make this: a joke. 

Hoping that she’s wrong, and not wanting to think on it if she’s right, Rose focuses, instead, on the feeling she gets when the Doctor takes her hand. But then Delion calls out their names, and the Doctor takes back his hand, putting it on her waist, instead. And then, onto the stage they run.

When the whoops and cheers rally for them to kiss, Rose wonders if maybe she should consider making some plans of her own.


End file.
